#am poems on Hello Poetry

Just call me Woo Apr 2019

Tats

Just my tattoos and me
They’re all I need
Always with me
Seen me through
Through hell and all
My tattoos on me
They bring me peace

#tattoos #am #i #crazy

gabrielle Mar 2019

a friend

the people
who stands after me
that falls beneath of who i am
whom accepted my being

the wise ones
who taught me
that brings the best of me
whom shared time in loving me

for who i am;
in goodness and the worst
them who acknowledge
to what i am and to what i do

the advocates who i am thankful for.

@moots, @noeowu & @cami

thank you

#*** #friend #accept #who #i #am

Lake Mar 2019

spring

the spring comes and the winter leaves
now i'm missing the fun i had with splinters and leaves
crazy how life goes so fast when you don't notice
and everything just slows down when you blow it
i know it's natural, it's okay to mess up
but i gotta fess up, i'll never make it to the best of
the greatest hits won't include me
no one will ever introduce me
you won't ever know the new me
because the version you see will die eventually
buried in a forest of words, six feet under
buried alive until another summer
never stopped to wonder where people go
never stopped to think if people know
if people grow, if people change
otherwise everything just looks the same
it's all so plain to me, somebody explain to me
how you can stay sane doing the mundane
it's all routine, we're all just moving
on and on, moving along, until our next favorite song

#spring #time #winter #gone #so #am #i

George Morales Mar 2019

New Words Old Thoughts

We used to run around the streets in Elmhurst. Play football and bounce the ***** off windshields. Get into tussles and act like tough guys. Somebody on the block always opened the hydrant when things got too hot.

There wasn't a lot of running inside the walls of my high school. It was a train to a bus ride away from home. But it felt a world away.

I'd meet the homeys after school, out on the handball courts in Broadway. Sometimes I didn't bother going to school. I'd skip straight into acing fools on serves.

It's a habit I've kept with me over time. I've had trouble seeing the opportunity right in front of me because I've believed things had to be a certain way. I believed new relationships couldn't be formed as strong as old ones. But I was wrong.

I made it through high school. First kid in the fam to graduate out of college. First generation middle class man from the streets of a lower class upbringing. I don't get to bare that too often. And I don't get to speak my speak all time. Often times I've had to change tongues, dig outside my element to feel a part of something. More often I've chosen not to do so. Out of pride? Out of principal? I probably know as much as you. And that's nothing. But wherever I am, there are places that I came from, people I have met, things that I have been. And without them I'd have no words for you.

#words #thoughts #memories #past #present #future #wherever #i #am

Bohemian Mar 2019

"I"

With all the delights that this day has pumped in me,
I shall exhale,evaluating.
Nothing frights me though,
Yet at times my humility easily goes.

A fearless vagabond that I have turned into,
Even the merciless,to look into my eyes, does not dare.
I am in no haste,
Even my trots have the power to leap and make a thud such that everybody fall off their steps.

Your stares that I descry,
No more make a difference to me.
For I am immune and have no envy,fear,agitations,trepidations or gluttonous desires.
It is no shame,those sights be such a common thing and all the same.

I have no back story and none coming forth,shortly or in this life,
I don't hestitate to yell what many of you cannot spell.
For all the stabs faced,
Birthed a scabbard and a sword in one frame.

The truth could be my lingua franca,
Forlorn be the brethren of my creed.
Repressed and silenced are my alarms of seize fire over the border,
Mollifying and tranquilizing be a part of my duty.

To stand the repercussion of my sins counts in my atonement,
For it is never an evanesce,too late.
I fear no hell or purgatory,
For I have witnessed worse in some eyes.

Victimization is a poor retreat,
To harangue them and present self with an ode is no feat.
Patience is my dagger to time,
And threatening each other we walk rakishly hand in hand.

To trail back,
Is not for me that fatal.
I emancipate the baited,
And buster am I of existing parasites.

Liberty is my boundary,
I would dare not to annihilate a choice.
But I do not condone either,
For I hate to feel withered and there is no way I may let go.

I am relentless,
I would not mind if you address me as a bovine.
I am cathartic and hysterical,most of all a contributor here,
An energy straight from plasma,unsimplified.

#i #am #not #afraid

Nat Lipstadt Apr 2018

I am not the master of my writing (the lyrical expression of depression)

I am not the master of my writing

-
my writing masters me,
seizing me when the seizure is a sure thing,
it dictates to its enslaved scribe
what it desires this utensil to reveal and expel -
the contraries
who having battled to a ****** draw leaves the battlefield trembling with indecent indecision; the optimal conditions for its macrobiotic invasion of my brain stem;

the she-muse offers me two choices:
she wants a poem writ forthwith
on the lyrical expression
of depression and refusal is
non optional

so I fantasize escape and that becomes
her property as well;
evidence against me to be used at my trials,
the one where there is no statue of liberty
from the limitations of prior bad acts;

I offer the she-muse two choices:

give me a cabin with WiFi
and self-enforcement of solitary confinement and
tie me up with the rope remainders of broken bonds,

bonds that tied me up worse
when they were broken
and the peaceful withering
that won’t disrupt disturb nobody
from a distance

my other choice is to bury me
forthwith next to my parents
and shutter my constant tearing eyes which are drop-resistant

muse says that’s no choice
I own your voice stilled or not,
will bill your soul’s account for
denial of poetic services

weep; i don’t want the noises that curse this troubled
bodyship don’t want recollections good or bad

the muse-***** cackles with insanity of delight
for she accepts this writ as partial payment
on her commission, whispers I love your
lyrical expressions of depression
that ****** recognition algorithms
alert me that seizing time is nigh

there is no on/off switch for one like you:
father son and holy ghost

#i #am #not #the #master #of #my #writing #lyrical #expression